Driving the dictator

Another classic trip from 20 years of TG mag: delivering Admiral General Aladeen to a big telly interview.

It began smoothly enough. We met Leo and the Prombron off the Chunnel (10 hours behind schedule – Leo forgot his satnav and ended up
doing a few impromptu laps of Holland) and took him on a quick London tour
before heading for the Playboy Club: requisite behaviour in a car built for a
fictional despot.

And now, after some bunny-chat and glitzy photos, our Dartz
time seems done: tomorrow, the movie’s official promoters are planning some
‘stunts’ around London with Sacha and the Prombron, but they have informed us
in no uncertain terms that TopGear is banned from this. No journalists, no photos: the
car will be driven by a Russian guard. We bribed, we begged, we offered Playboy
bunnies; the movie bigwigs didn’t budge. Almost like we’ve got a reputation for
messing these things up. At 2am, we bid farewell to Leo, and wished him luck
for tomorrow.

At 6.30am the next morning, my phone rings. “Get your
f***ing arse to hotel!” It is Leo, hissing in the clenched-teeth fashion only
ever seen in movies. “Quick, now!”